The Companion
by isabella2004
Summary: As his presence continues to unsettle the camp, George Hearst enlists Catherine's help in a task close to home. Meanwhile, Al reaches a decision about the future of his marriage and contemplates revealing a terrible secret to his wife...
1. Chapter 1

**Here it is folks! Season 3 of my Deadwood fandom. Thank you to everyone who's read and reviewed my previous stories. If you're new to this, please read _Hell of A Place _and _A Fragile Life _first to make sense of it all.**

**As always, I only own all original characters.**

**As you'll know, my stories don't follow the time line of the series and there are bits and bobs that differ here and there...but then it is AU! **

**And...Al ain't losing any fingers in my stories!**

**July 28****th**** 1876**

"Fucking prick..."

Al Swearengen muttered softly to himself as he stood at the pisspot, attempting the morning flow. In weeks of late, he had found it more and more challenging to make water, even at times when he should have been lucky to reach it in time. He took his prick in his hand and shook it, as though the action might encourage it to do something. It failed to respond and so, he re-buttoned the flap on his duds, pulled on his pants, waistcoat and boots and made his way out onto the balcony to greet the new day.

Below him in the thoroughfare, the traders were setting up for the day's business. They called good-naturedly to each other as they did so and Al inclined his head in greeting as Seth Bullock walked past, accompanying his wife to her duties at the schoolhouse.

"Good morning, Mr Swearengen," she called up, upon seeing him.

"Mrs Bullock," he greeted her. He watched as they progressed, arm in arm, until out of sight and thought over how remarkable it was that Bullock had managed to retain a marriage in the wake of an affair with the Mrs Ellsworth. For sure, Martha Bullock must know of what transpired between her husband and the other woman and, yet, there were never any signs of rancour in their public displays.

"Good morning."

He turned to see his wife, Catherine, at the balcony door, dressed in her chemise, a shawl pulled around her shoulders, her hair falling around her face. "Morning," he replied by way of greeting." She stepped out onto the balcony beside him, her hand automatically moving to rest atop his on the balustrade. He moved away at her touch, and though avoiding her gaze, knew that she had noted the action.

"What are your intentions for today?" he asked, turning to face her and yet leaving a distance between them that protected himself more than her.

"I thought I might visit Joanie," Catherine replied, once she had recovered herself. "It's been some time now since I've spoken with her...once I've seen to the girls, of course...unless you have an objection?

He paused on her expression, one which he would almost have said was pleading for him to have such an objection. "You can do as you fucking well please if you feel well enough."

"I do," she replied.

"Then by all means, sally forth and spend the morning with her." He moved past her back into the office and lifted his jacket from the chair by the bed.

She followed him inside. "Al..."

"What's he trying to say with that hole in the fucking hotel wall, huh?" he interrupted her, pointing back out the door across to the Central Hotel. Mere days after he had arrived in camp, George Hearst had stunned them all by taking sledgehammer to the wall and knocking a hole big enough for him to climb through and stand on the lower roof, surveying the camp."Is he trying to make some kind of a fucking point?"

"Presumably he didn't tell you of his plans when you met him," Catherine replied.

"Not a word. Though truth be told, our meeting was brief," Al replied, leaning against the doorframe, recalling the short meeting facilitated by E.B. "His intentions in camp will no doubt become all too clear in due course and yet I find myself fucking mystified at present as to why he hasn't made advances towards Mrs Ellsworth over her claim."

"Perhaps he has," Catherine reasoned. "Reason stands that you can't always know the goings on of all of the residents all of the time."

"No," Al shook his head. "E.B. would have informed on the matter if overtures had been made. This...stillness...unsettles me." He felt her hand on his back, her cheek resting against him and, for a brief moment, he thought about turning, taking her in his arms and satisfying himself with her body as he knew she craved. Sense won out, however and he moved away from her. "Take as long as you like with Miss Stubbs. You ain't needed here this morning." Turning away from her hurt expression, he left the office and made his way downstairs.

Only a few early morning hardened drinkers were present and the 'tit-licker' had just finished his morning ritual and was fleeing for the door, by the time Al approached the bar.

"Regular as fucking clockwork," Dan stated, pouring his boss a drink.

"Best way to be, Dan," Al replied. He glanced up at the closed office door and imagined Catherine behind it, struggling to hold back her tears the way he had seen her do on so many occasions of late. It gave him no pleasure to act as he did and yet, there seemed no alternative. He witnessed the efforts that she made to entice him night after night and, though there were moments such as this morning when he felt he might be able to forget the past, they were short lived. Having her returned to him had been his fervent prayer, but now that she was well again, he feared disaster of the same kind befalling her.

The only way he knew to prevent agony of the same ilk was to remove himself from her completely. There could be no mistakes, no accidents. Allowing himself to feel for her only awakened the possibility of another child and more sickness and _that _he knew he could not bear.

"I'm going to the hardware store shortly to see Bullock," he said, draining his glass.

"What for?" Dan asked.

"None of your fucking business."

XXXX

As she made her way along the thoroughfare towards Shaughnessy's, where Joanie was now installed having generously loaned the now defunct Chez Ami to be used as the schoolhouse, Catherine couldn't help the pierce of bitter tears behind her eyes. As the days passed, Al grew more and more distant towards her. Conversation was limited to the whores or wonderments about Hearst. They spoke of nothing personal and, since her return to health, he had made no advance towards her.

It wasn't for a lack of effort on her part. Thinking he held the vision of her in her sickbed in his mind, preventing him from acting, she tried to ensure that her hair sat nicely, that there was perfume on her décolletage and that her body was well presented for him. It appeared to make no odds. He spent as little time in her company as he could and every night, he turned his back on her without so much as a gentle touch. She had hoped and prayed that his mood would pass, desperately needing to feel his arms around her, his mouth at her ear and, least she admit, his prick in her pussy. But as time rolled on, she had begun to fear that life would never return to that which it was before. On every occasion that she tried to broach the subject with him, he always found reason to turn the conversation to a different topic, as evidenced that very morning.

When she reached Joanie's room, the other woman greeted her warmly and invited her in where a plain tea-tray awaited her. She sat in the one chair in the room while Joanie perched on the bed and, for a while, they talked of meaningless things. What was happening in the camp, how she had found Tolliver of late and, of course, Hearst's arrival.

"How are things going?" Joanie asked carefully, after polite conversation had been exhausted. "With you and Al, I mean."

"All right," Catherine replied, looking away, somewhat embarrassed. "He's courteous to me, which I suppose I should be grateful for, but...as for the other..." she trailed off and looked down into her coffee cup. "It's as though we were mere acquaintances rather than husband and wife."

"Maybe...maybe it's just hard for him," Joanie opined. "I mean, seeing you sick and the like, especially knowing that you lost the child."

"Maybe, but there's more to it than that. I can't really describe it suffice to say that the atmosphere between us has changed so irrevocably. He lies beside me every night like a stranger and yet...to my knowledge...he ain't using any of the girls so..." she shrugged. "I don't rightly know what to think."

"I reckon time is all he needs," Joanie said encouragingly. "Any fool can see he loves you. I bet you he ain't about to let a little thing like this get in the way of your being together."

"I hope so," Catherine replied, though she remained unconvinced. "But enough about my fucking problems. What about you? Have you and Mr Utter discussed a future together yet?"

Joanie blushed, "Not in so many words, no."

"But you _are _hopeful."

"I imagine it would be pleasant being in Mr Utter's company, especially after so many years with Cy."

Catherine shuddered slightly as she thought of the life her friend had lived. All those years being bullied by Tolliver and then her friends, Mattie included, butchered by Hearst's geologist.

Perhaps she should be grateful for her lot with Al, satisfying or not.

XXXX

"Good afternoon Mrs Swearengen!"

Catherine paused as she made her way back along the thoroughfare to the Gem an hour later and looked around to identify the owner of the voice. Shielding her eyes from the sun, she looked up above her to see Hearst, standing atop the hotel, looking down at her, his hands thrust into the pockets of his pants. "Good afternoon, Mr Hearst," she replied carefully, for truth be told, it was the first time she had had any direct conversation with the man.

"Fine day, ain't it?"

"Yes, it is."

"I was hoping that you might be able to spare me a few moments of your time to discuss a rather delicate matter."

"Well, I..." she glanced over to the Gem balcony, but there was no sign of Al.

"If you have concern for Mr Swearengen, I understand him to be in the hardware store with Sheriff Bullock at present," Hearst said. "What I have to say need only take a few moments."

Catherine weighed up the situation. Were she to ask Al in advance before venturing to speak to Hearst, she had no doubt that he would caution against it most fervently. At least, she assumed he would. And yet his manner towards her of late led her to think that perhaps he might have no opinion at all on the subject. "All right," she replied finally.

"I'm glad. Please come inside and venture to room six," Hearst said.

She made her way out of the afternoon glare of the thoroughfare and into the hotel. Thankfully, E.B was not on the desk, for she could be certain at his intrigue were he to discover her purpose. She climbed the stairs slowly, rounded the corner and found that he already had the door open awaiting her arrival.

"I'm grateful to you for acceding to my request, Mrs Swearengen," Hearst said, allowing her to enter and leaving the door ajar. "I have been considering this matter for some time now and was hoping that you might be willing to help me."

"That depends on what you intend asking of me," she replied glancing around.

"Of course. Won't you sit down?" he gestured to a chair opposite his desk. She paused and then slowly did as he asked. "I'm aware that you have been a resident of the camp for some time now, am I right?"

"Yes, almost a year," she replied.

"Both before and after your marriage?"

"Yes."

"Then you must feel you know it well."

"I suppose I do."

"My wife Phoebe, Mrs Hearst, rarely travels with me," he explained. "Caring for our son William has always been her main priority and rightly so. I'm aware, however, that she finds it difficult when I am away for extended periods of time, as I have been over these last few years. Our son is now of an age to attend boarding school back east and Mrs Hearst has declared an interest to come and join me in the camp for the time that I will be stationed here."

"Oh," Catherine said. "That will be pleasant company for you, I'm sure."

"Indeed," he agreed. "The difficulty arises in that my business activities keep me occupied on a day to day basis, meaning I would be unable to spend as much time with her as I would like. Whilst I appreciate the good nature of many in the camp, it is not a place where I would wish my wife to venture out alone and that is the purpose for which I seek your assistance."

Catherine stared at him, "I'm not sure I understand your request."

"It's very simple, Mrs Swearengen. I would like you to act as companion to my wife upon her arrival." She must have shown her surprise as he chuckled good-naturedly. "You seem taken aback by the request."

"I suppose I am," she replied honestly. "Your wife..."

"Is close to you in age though some ten years your senior," he interrupted her. "Marriage to an older man is a situation to which you find yourself common to her."

"Oh," she said again, surprised by this revelation. She had thought that whoever bore the wedding ring of George Hearst would be a woman nearer his own age, a worldly woman, sharing his views and values.

"Do you give me an answer now?" he asked

"Well..." she hesitated. "I am not a woman who spends her days simply lounging in the Gem watching as the world passes by, Mr Hearst. Approve or otherwise, but I am a whoremistress with daily duties in the saloon."

"I understand that perfectly," he said, "and I would not wish to take advantage of your time. Which is why I am prepared to remunerate you for this service to me." He pulled a scrap of paper towards him, scribbled a figure down on it and pushed it across the table towards her. "Would this be acceptable?"

Catherine stared at the sum offered. It was more than she had ever been expected to be paid for any service, least of all simply acting as companion to another woman. "I..."

"Do you wish to discuss the matter with Mr Swearengen?" Hearst asked. "I would not assign blame if you felt a decision could not be made without such recourse."

She bristled at the implication and could only look back on Al's cool attitude towards her of late. "I do not need to seek his permission, Mr Hearst. I do as I please." She nodded. "I would be glad to make your wife's acquaintance and to familiarise her with the camp."

"Splendid!" he clapped his hands together and got to his feet, forcing her to stand also. "Shall we shake on it? I see in you a shrewd businesswoman who would not consider the matter settled until such gesture had been made."

Catherine looked at his outstretched hand for a moment before clasping it in her own. "When does Mrs Hearst arrive?"

"On tomorrow's stagecoach, so it is fortunate indeed that I was able to speak with you today," Hearst said, ushering her to the door. "Please do give my warmest regards to your husband. I will send Captain Turner to the Gem tomorrow once my wife has recovered from her travels so that you may make her acquaintance without delay."

"All right then," she replied, before turning and making her way back down the stairs and out into the warm sunshine. Her head spun as she crossed the thoroughfare and stepped back inside the Gem.

What in Christ's name had she just agreed to?

XXXX

Oblivious to the conversation taking place between Catherine and Hearst, Al was grateful to find Seth alone in the hardware store upon his arrival. He had nothing against Sol Star, but the nature of the conversation was to be delicate and he preferred as little an audience as possible.

Seth started upon seeing him and hurried over. "Hearst?" he asked.

"To that matter there is no update since last we spoke," Al replied. "I still ain't worked out his purpose nor do I detect any advances towards Mrs Ellsworth. My visit to you today is of a personal nature."

"A personal nature?"

"Yes. You'll remember, I hope, a certain document I had you sign and witness before my marriage to Catherine these months past?"

"Yes."

"I trust you still have it."

"In the safe, of course. Is there some difficulty? She is not unwell again I hope."

"Her health improves daily, "Al replied. "But I'd like to see it, if I may." Seth cocked his head to one side suspiciously, but did as he was asked. Al waited while he opened the safe and retrieved the document in question, handing it over within moments. Al opened it, read and reread the words contained therein. "As I remember," he said. "I may ask you to witness a document of another kind shortly."

"What kind of document?"

"One authorising a half share of the Gem to be passed to Catherine in cash or gold as she prefers. My intentions remain as provided for in this document. Despite law to the contrary, our marriage would not negate her share in the Gem and, on the occasion of divorce, would remain hers without question."

Seth stared at him, "By that remark, am I to conclude you intend to divorce?"

Al folded the document carefully and placed it in his inside pocket. "Moment comes for us to part ways...I'd appreciate your being present to ensure I fulfil my promise thus decreed."

"I got no difficulty with that, but..."

"As I said to you the morning you signed this, it wasn't my first foray into matrimony. I have become somewhat accustomed to the ritual of a coming together and a parting of the ways." Al knew the other man wanted to ask more, but was grateful for his restraint.

"I'm sorry," was all he said.

"Your apologies are noted and gratefully received," Al replied. "I'm sure this goes without saying, but the least said of this amongst camp members...would be all the better for a smooth transition."

"You got my word as silence," Seth assured him.

"I thank you for that," Al said. Without resorting to further explanations, he turned and made his way out of the hardware store and along the thoroughfare towards the Gem. As he approached, he happened to glance up at the hotel and saw Hearst, poised on the rooftop, watching him with interest.

"Mr Swearengen," Hearst greeted him calmly.

"Mr Hearst," Al replied. He continued his way on into the Gem, where he found Catherine at the bar, shifting nervously from foot to foot, her face lighting up when she saw him with something akin to relief. She hurried forward and he feared she might attempt to embrace him.

His fears were unfounded. "I must speak with you," she said quietly.

Al sighed heavily, the moment upon him. "And I with you."


	2. Chapter 2

**Enjoy...and please leave a review!**

"Hearst called to me this afternoon," Catherine revealed before Al had even closed the office door. She had been nervous about revealing her news and his absence from the Gem upon her return had only caused more anxiety. Now the words were tripping from her tongue, she felt the better for it.

"In what sense, called?" Al asked, moving around his desk.

"From his vantage point atop the hotel as I was making my way back here from Shaughnessy's." She gripped the back of the vacant chair. "He wanted to discuss a proposition with me."

"He wanted to discuss a proposition with you in the thoroughfare?"

"No, I went to his chamber."

Al paused and stared at her. "Have you lost your fucking mind? To be considering being alone with _any_ man in his chamber shows lack of a reasoned mind from a woman who doesn't offer herself to him for money, but with a man such as he..."

"It was broad daylight, Al," she replied, rolling her eyes, "the hotel was busy and, what's more, he left the door ajar."

"Oh well, if he left the door ajar..." his voice dripped sarcasm. "At least someone would have been able to come to your aid in the immediate aftermath of whatever he may have considered appropriate to subject you to."

"Do you want to fucking hear this or would you prefer to simply ridicule me?"

"Please proceed." He sat down and bade her do likewise. "What proposition did he have for you?"

"His wife is due to join him in camp and, fearing for her safety and wellbeing, he wished to employ me as companion to her being, as I suppose, a woman he considers she would warm to." She raised her chin defiantly, awaiting his rebuke. "He intends to pay me and I agreed to his terms."

"Uh huh..." Al pulled a bottle and two glasses from his drawer and set them on the table. "And you agreed to this without recourse to my approval or opinion?"

"I don't believe I am bound to gain your approval for any of my actions." _Especially not now,_ she wanted to add, _in light of your indifference._ He looked at her for a long moment, as though reading her mind. She wanted to say something, anything, to bring him to a confession of his feelings, but the moment was swiftly lost.

"Fucking Hearst," he said, downing a glass and pouring himself another. "Throws me a curveball like that and sits back to await my response..." he sat back in the chair and rubbed his chin pensively.

"Response has already been given by my agreeing to his request," Catherine replied, draining her own glass. "She's arriving on tomorrow's stage and that Captain that he has following him about will advise me as to when she is ready to receive me."

"You and he have it all worked out, haven't you?"

She blushed and looked away at the suggestion of a conspiracy. "It ain't like that, as well you know."

"One supposes this could present an opportunity for us," Al mused, sitting forwards again. "To have you ensconced in Hearst's premises, companion to his wife...plenty of opportunity for you to be watchful and observant and report to me anything you might hear about his plans for the camp or its citizens."

"That ain't why..."

"Indeed, he clearly harbours no suspicion towards you, being married to me as you are, otherwise he would not have offered the position." He refilled her glass and slid it towards her companionably.

"That ain't why I agreed to the offer," she said.

"No...I'm sure your head was turned with the idea of making a new friend in camp," he replied patronisingly. "But contrary to what you may believe, Cathy, you have a purpose here and an opportunity presenting itself like this to you ain't to be ignored."

Catherine sighed heavily, knowing there was little use in arguing with him on the matter. "I suppose...if the opportunity presented itself for my learning anything..."

"Now that's more the attitude I fucking expect," he said, re-corking the bottle and returning it to the drawer. "Doc's down seeing to the whores. Not to detract from your _new _position, but your old one here still requires fulfilling." Wordlessly she got to her feet and left the room, leaving him to ponder the document still safely tucked into his pocket and the fact that new developments could only serve to leave his plans on hold for the moment.

XXXX

"That's a nasty bite Jen has on her arm," Doc observed, directing Catherine's attention to it in the whores' room.

"I know," she replied, looking at the mark and wincing at the memory of the whore's scream of agony but a few days ago. "Fucking hooplehead taking fucking liberties. Johnny saw him off though." She smiled reassuringly at the other woman. "He's turning out to be Jen's knight in shining armour."

Jen smiled in return but said nothing.

"I'll be keeping my eye on you," Doc said, handing Jen some cream. "Make sure you put this on it and keep a watch for infection." He got to his feet and turned to Catherine. "How are you doing?"

"Fine," she replied. "Feeling much better."

"I'm delighted to hear it." He drew her away from the others. "Have you and Al...resumed marital relations? I ask, not out of perverted curiosity, but from a purely medical perspective. Any problems you might be having..."

"No," she replied hurriedly. "That...hasn't happened yet."

"I see. Well, when it does, if you suffer prolonged discomfort or bleeding, you must come see me. Too many women in your situation suffer in silence and there is no embarrassment needed."

"Thanks, Doc," she said, though it seemed unlikely at the present moment that such a visit would be required. She left Doc to finish up his work and made her way back into the bar, now thronged with customers, where the first person to catch her attention was Harry Manning.

"Mrs Swearengen!" he hurried forward to her. "It's...uh...it's good to see you looking so well."

"Thank you, Mr Manning, though I _have_ seen you on several occasions over the last few weeks," she reminded him.

"Oh...uh...yeah..." Harry shifted nervously. "I...I wanted you to know that...well...I...I've asked Miss Lewis for her hand and she's accepted me."

Catherine thought on the flower seller, Milly Lewis, a pretty young thing with an open face and pleasant manner. She would be ideal for Harry. "I'm happy for you both," she said. "Please give my congratulations to Miss Lewis when you next see her."

"I will...thank you..." he hovered for another few seconds before turning and making his way to the door.

"Why'd he tell you that?" Catherine turned to see Dolly hovering by her shoulder.

"No idea."

"Maybe he thought you'd be jealous."

She laughed shortly, "A misguided opinion if ever I heard one."

"You and Al ain't fucking."

Catherine stared at the other woman, taken aback by the baldness of her statement.

"I heard what you said to Doc."

"That ain't your business."

Dolly pulled her thin shawl tighter around her shoulders. "Reckon we should know if the task is going to fall to us again."

"That ain't your business, Dolly," Catherine repeated, her voice tight. "You mention it again, it ain't just Al you'll need to deal with." Dolly scurried away and she found herself leaning on the bar for support. It was the first time she had ever threatened one of the girls and the words didn't sit easy with her. The fact that they were aware, that they felt justified to comment...she looked up at the closed office door and thought about the man therein. The man she was beginning to feel like she no longer knew.

XXXX

"You make sure you keep your eyes and ears fucking open," Al said, as he undressed that night at his side of the bed. "Least little thing you think important you relay to me for my consideration. Anything she might say about Hearst or his intentions or anything you might overhear him say to her. Anything, you understand?"

"Don't talk to me like I'm one of the whores sent to do your bidding," Catherine replied acerbically from behind the day's edition of _The Pioneer._ If he had said these words to her once, he had said them a thousand times. "I agreed to keep a watchful eye and ear but my primary purpose is to meet Mrs Hearst and companion her as requested, not go sneaking around the hotel seeking information."

"Remember who you're fucking married to," he reminded her, his tone sharp.

"As if I could fucking forget," she replied. The newspaper was suddenly snatched from in front of her face, causing her to gasp as he appeared at her own side of the bed. "Jesus, Al..."

"Fucking loyalty, Catherine, and don't you ever forget it!" He loomed over her. "You ain't going over there to make a new friend and take tea and pass yourself off as some fucking well-to-do type. You're going over there to take advantage and to see what you can fucking learn about Hearst and his intentions in the camp!"

It was the most alive she had seen him for weeks and his animation over the fact only served to arouse her starved body. Before he could react, she leapt to her feet, pulled her chemise over her head and threw herself at him, somewhat inelegantly. Her arms snaked around his neck, pulling his mouth to hers, and she pressed her naked body against him. For a moment, he responded to her, his mouth hard against her own, his hands straying to her buttocks and pulling her forcibly against his pelvis, causing her to moan at the sensation of his hard prick against her. But just when she thought she had broken through, he pulled away and pushed her from him.

"That ain't happening," he told her, moving around to the other side of the bed.

"Why not? You have a hard on, I could fucking feel it! Why won't you touch me?! Why do you deny yourself what I know you must truly want?!"

"You ain't got the first fucking clue what I must truly want," he replied, bending to put on his pants, as to leave the room.

"No please, don't!" Catherine begged, feeling tears threatening behind her eyes. The humiliation of Dolly's words flooded back to her and the last thing she wanted was more talk about their current situation. "Please don't sleep elsewhere. I will lie on my side of the bed and allow you peace to lie on yours without my touching you if that is what you wish. I won't ask you about it again, you have my word. Only please don't make this...this chasm between us any fucking wider than it already is."

He paused in his actions and then nodded imperceptibly.

Slowly she retrieved her chemise from the floor and pulled it back over her head before sliding beneath the blanket again. She deliberately didn't watch as he completed his own undressing and retired beside her. As the lamp was extinguished, she lay and stared at the ceiling, wishing with all her heart that he would turn to her and yet knowing that he would not.

**July 29****th**** 1876**

The arrival of the stagecoach the following morning took Catherine to the nearest window lest she catch sight of her new charge. She was not to be disappointed, as only one traveller could have fitted the description of any woman married to Hearst. She alighted from the stage, dressed in a garment of vivid red, her blonde hair piled up on top of her head. Dropping gracefully to the ground, she looked around and was warmly greeted by the man himself, who swept her into his arms and lovingly kissed her on the mouth before gently guiding her into the hotel. Catherine felt a stab of jealously go through her. Even when their relationship had been of a more intimate nature, Al would never deign to show true affection in public.

"Spying on the newly arrived Mrs Hearst?" Al's voice at her ear caused her to jump. "Assuming that's her of course."

"I imagine so. And if you intend to lecture me again on my role as her companion then please reserve your words for someone who hasn't yet heard them. I, have had my fill." She made to move away from the window, but he caught her wrist and pulled her back.

"Tone like that ain't going to win you my favour," he said softly.

"I appear to have already lost that," she snapped, pulling her arm free. "If your complete indifference to me is any guide." She lifted her shawl from the bed and wrapped it around her shoulders. "I'm going to visit Daddy's grave, a task I have sorely neglected of late. I doubt I'll be required at the hotel for some time but I'm sure you would be able to find someone willing to fetch me if the need arose."

Al watched as she swept out of the room, indignation following her like scent. He moved back to the window and waited until she appeared in the thoroughfare below, her step purposeful. Stopping only to purchase some tired looking blooms from the flower seller, whom Al had come to understand was to be wed to Harry Manning, she cast a final look back in his direction before continuing on her way. Turning away, he glanced at the bed that had been at the centre of the previous night's argument. Little would have prevented him from acceding to her wish to fuck, had he not still the hard knot of guilt in his chest. He knew she didn't understand his seeming reluctance for intimacy and some form of explanation would require to be given in due course, but he preferred to keep the truth to himself. His fear that intimacy between them could lead to pregnancy was ever prevalent. For though reason told him that a return of her sickness was far beyond the realms of possibility, human feeling dictated that he never place her in such a situation where possibility remained.

XXXX

"A very good afternoon to you, Mrs Swearengen," Hearst greeted Catherine on the stairs of the hotel.

"Good afternoon, Mr Hearst," she replied, conscious of Captain Turner close at her back. He had appeared at the Gem shortly after two o'clock that afternoon and decreed that Mrs Hearst was ready to receive visitors. Somewhat unsurely, she had found herself following him out of the saloon and across the thoroughfare to the hotel. Al had been conspicuously absent from the bar at the time and for that, she had been glad.

"You'll find my wife in the room down the hall. Turner will show you. I, unfortunately, have much business to attend to this afternoon but I do hope that you two ladies enjoy each other's company."

"I'm sure we will, thank you," she replied. He touched his hat and continued on his way. Silently, Captain Turner led her along the corridor to another room and knocked twice on the door.

"Come in!" A female voice called from inside. He pushed the door open and motioned for Catherine to enter first. As she did so, she came face to face with the same woman she had seen alighted from the stage earlier, though she was now dressed in a soft blue and her hair fell around her face.

"You must be Mrs Swearengen," the woman hurried forward, her hands extended in greeting. "It's so wonderful to meet you. I'm Phoebe Hearst."

"Mrs Hearst," Catherine replied, feeling an overwhelming urge to curtsey.

"Oh please call me Phoebe. I can't abide _Mrs Hearst._ It makes me sound so old!" Phoebe smiled at her. "May I call you Catherine? Such a pretty face! You also seem far too young to bear an old married woman's name."

"Of course."

"How wonderful! Won't you come and sit down and take tea with me? That will be all, Turner." She dismissed the captain with a wave of her hand and directed Catherine to a chair situated by the window before which sat an elegant tea tray. Or, at least as elegant as one would find in the Central Hotel. "I can't tell you how delighted I am that you agreed to George's request! The thought of coming to the camp with no prospect of company was rather terrifying!"

"Folks ain't so bad here," Catherine said.

"Not to you, perhaps," Phoebe agreed, pouring the tea into two cups. "You've been here now for some time. But after San Francisco this is certainly a new experience for me! I've often wondered about the places George travels to and now I can say that I have seen one of them for myself!"

Catherine found herself smiling at Phoebe's enthusiasm. "It must be difficult to have your husband away from you for so long."

"Sometimes, though it's often a blessing disguise. George is always so preoccupied with business that even when he _is _at home I can't command his attention for very long. The house is always full of business acquaintances traipsing in and out and even when he is at home, William and I often find ourselves dining alone most nights. It's only with William being away at school that I decided I _had _to get myself out of that house and see something of our great country. Missouri and San Francisco have been my limit so far, I'm afraid. Oh, you must see a picture!" Phoebe leapt to her feet and hurried across the room, returning with a small cameo photograph of an unsmiling young boy who looked no older than thirteen.

"He looks very like his father," Catherine observed.

"Yes..." Phoebe mused. "He's my pride and joy. I had hoped to bear George more children but, unfortunately, we have not been further blessed and what with his advancing years..." She sat back down and smiled at her guest. "But tell me about yourself! I understand that, like myself, you too have made a match with a man older than your years."

"Yes."

"And you work for this man?"

"I don't work _for _him," Catherine said quickly. "I inherited a half share in the Gem saloon across the way after my father died and I...look after the girls there," she replied, hoping the other woman took her meaning. "Al was his business partner and subsequently my own. Though marriage and relinquishment of my share to him certainly wasn't something I had ever expected to do."

"The financial lot of the married woman is regrettable, but you can't often help whom you fall in love with. I was but eighteen when we wed and completely infatuated," Phoebe smiled at the memory, seemingly unconcerned by the revelation of her visitor's status. "Even now, whenever his gaze rests upon me, I feel like that young girl again. I suppose you must feel the same."

Catherine thought back to her courtship with Al, if it could be called that. Drunken fucking followed by a sudden declaration of affection hardly seemed to count as courtship. At least not in any way she thought Phoebe would understand. And as for their situation now...

"In any event, I cannot wait to see more of the camp!" Phoebe declared, draining her cup.

"Aren't you tired after your long journey?"

"Not in the slightest. I rested earlier." Phoebe got to her feet. "Now, will you act as guide?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks for the reviews! Keep them coming! I'm glad you like Phoebe so far. I did some research on the real Phoebe Hearst, but this is a work of fiction, so any similarities really are pure coincidence!**

"I am just fascinated by all of this!" Phoebe exclaimed as they left the hotel and emerged into the thoroughfare. "It's so different to San Francisco, let me tell you. The dirt, for example." She looked down at the earth beneath her feet with fascination. "And this must be the Gem!" She paused and looked up at the building opposite, shielding her eyes from the afternoon sunshine. "What a pleasant building. Shall we go inside?"

Catherine stared at her as though she'd lost her mind. "I don't really think that's advisable. I doubt Mr Hearst would approve."

"Nonsense," Phoebe waved her hand dismissively. "This isn't home and we'll be here for such a short time. I confess I've never been in a saloon before and what with you being my companion..."

"Well...it ain't really the done thing for women to be entering," Catherine explained, "not unless they're...working there."

"I see," Phoebe frowned. "I would so have enjoyed meeting your husband."

It was precisely the last thing Catherine wanted, given that she had little idea what Al might take it upon himself to say. "Perhaps later," she said, gesturing further along the thoroughfare. "I could introduce you to Sheriff Bullock. He and his partner own the hardware store just along here."

"That sounds perfect," Phoebe said, linking arms with her. "I could use a good broom. That hotel room is in dire need of a stiff sweeping."

Seth was alone in the store when they arrived and Catherine couldn't help noticing a look of surprise cross his face when he saw them. "Mrs Swearengen," he said, stepping out from behind the counter.

"Sheriff," she greeted him. "I wanted to introduce you to Mrs Phoebe Hearst."

Seth looked momentarily taken aback, but he accepted Phoebe's proffered hand. "Mrs Hearst."

"A pleasure to meet you, Sheriff," Phoebe said. "Having now made your acquaintance I see that the camp must surely be in safe hands. And you have such an array of goods here. I was looking for..." she trailed off as she moved to the far corner of the store.

Seth took hold of Catherine's arm. "Your idea bringing her here...or his?"

"I'll thank you to let go of me," she said softly, shaking herself free. "I've been appointed companion to Mrs Hearst and I'm merely showing her around the camp. She might be interested in purchasing a broom, so your best attitude might help complete the sale."

"Yes, this is exactly what I'm looking for," Phoebe said, pointing to a broom in the far corner. "Would it be possible to have someone deliver it to the hotel for me?"

"I'm sure that can be arranged," Seth replied.

"Splendid! Does my husband have an account here?"

"He does not."

"Oh dear...I never carry money, you see, but I can send Captain Turner along later. In fact, he could collect the broom and bring it to me...save your staff."

"As you wish," Seth replied.

"Wonderful!" Phoebe linked arms with Catherine again. "Thank you so much for your attentions, Sheriff. I believe that Mrs Swearengen has much still to show me!"

XXXX

Al sat at his desk, ostensibly there to consider the month's takings, but finding his mind wandering elsewhere. In particular, over to the hotel where he assumed Catherine and Phoebe Hearst were. In his mind, he replayed the conversation he had with her shortly before her departure. Her wounded pride had been evident...as had her beauty and he was no fool to realise that if he were to put his plan in motion, if he were to seek and be granted a divorce, then there would be little doubt that, in time, she would become the wife of another. Nature would also dictate that she may eventually become the mother of a child. He wondered how he might feel about those events, should they happen. Loving her as he undoubtedly did, her happiness meant much to him and yet though he had resolved to be parted from her, the thought of her with another brought him little comfort.

A sharp knock at the door jolted him from his considerations and, before he had granted entry, the door opened and Trixie hurried in.

"What the fuck is Catherine doing?" she asked pointedly.

"Expand on your meaning and I might be inclined to answer," he replied.

"She's traipsing all over camp with a woman I can only assume to be Mrs fucking Hearst. Was this your invention or did she come up with it all by herself?"

"Not that I feel I need explain myself to you," Al said, "but Hearst himself commissioned Catherine for the position. Called to her from the thoroughfare and then conversed with her in the privacy of his bedchamber by all accounts."

Trixie stared at him. "And she agreed to...to what?"

"To act as the lady's companion while she remains in camp. And to keep her eyes and ears open lest Hearst decide to divulge information about his intentions towards us mere hoopleheads." He watched as Trixie shook her head in disapproval. "I would not have suggested she take on this role, nor would I have agreed to it, had Catherine not informed me she had already accepted Hearst's offer."

"She's been the hardware store and, last I saw, they were headed towards the Ellsworth home," Trixie said. "Maybe you ain't got a bad feeling about it, but I do."

"I'll be sure to bear your concerns in mind," Al sighed. "Now, will you go the fuck away? I have other business that commands my attention."

XXXX

"What a lovely space!" Phoebe exclaimed as she and Catherine arrived at the open area just opposite the Ellsworth home. There were people milling around, talking and laughing together. "Do the camp residents come to this area often?"

"I have to confess I'm not sure," Catherine replied honestly. "I don't come here much myself. I suppose it _is _quite popular."

"How delightful. You and I shall need to have a picnic here one afternoon. Then you can tell me all the scandals in the camp!"

"I'm not sure there's really anything that would interest you..."

"And who lives here?" Phoebe interrupted, turning her attention to the Ellsworth home. "What a lovely home!"

"Mr and Mrs Ellsworth have lived there since their marriage earlier this year."

"Ellsworth..." Phoebe rubbed her chin, "That name sounds so familiar..."

"Mrs Ellsworth has the largest gold claim for miles around," Catherine replied.

"Of course!" Phoebe snapped her fingers. "Wasn't there something about her first husband too?"

"He died," Catherine said, reluctant to get into the details of the story and beginning to tire from all the day's activities.

"What a tragedy..." Phoebe mused. "Well, it certainly is an impressive structure." She frowned suddenly. "My dear, you've gone very pale all of a sudden. Are you unwell?"

"No, I'm fine, I assure you..."

"You don't look it at all. I think we've done enough exploring for one day." Phoebe patted her on the shoulder. "If you would direct me back to the hotel I do believe I can release you for the evening, though I do hope I can have the pleasure of your company again tomorrow?"

"I have duties at the Gem in the morning, but if you would like to see more of the camp in the afternoon..."

"I would indeed, especially the school. I would so like to meet the Sheriff's wife." They began walking back along the thoroughfare towards the hotel. "I must say, I genuinely didn't know what to expect when George told me he had commissioned you to help me acclimatise to the camp. But I can honestly say, that I think we shall be great friends, Catherine Swearengen. I hope you might feel the same."

"Yes," Catherine replied, as they paused at the hotel entrance. "I've enjoyed my time with you this afternoon."

"Wonderful. Then I shall bid you good day and see you tomorrow," Phoebe kissed her lightly on the cheek and then swept inside the hotel without so much as a backwards glance.

Catherine watched her disappear into the swirl of residents and then turned back to the Gem. There was no sign of Al on the balcony and she could only assume that he was engaged in business far more important than his marriage.

XXXX

"Well?"

"She's utterly charming, George," Phoebe relayed that evening, unpinning her hair. "I like her very much. Her manners, her conversation..."

"Did she say anything about the Ellsworth claim?"

"Not in so many words, no."

"Did you ask her?"

"No," she sighed at the note of irritation in his tone, "I only just met the woman this afternoon! She indicated the house to me and made mention that Mr and Mrs Ellsworth resided there and that Mrs Ellsworth has a large claim, but as to further talk..." she shrugged her shoulders.

Hearst moved closer to her chair. "Phoebe, you understand my purpose in having you befriend her is not to make sport for you but to provide me with information that will help my securing of that claim from Mrs Ellsworth!"

"Then you should have asked Mrs Ellsworth herself to befriend me, George. I don't possibly see how you expect Catherine..."

"It ain't her I'm fixing on," he interrupted, looking out of the window. "It's her husband."

"Well I haven't even met _him_ yet," she sat down in the chair by the window. "And honestly, I believe this whole charade to be utterly ridiculous. Why not just ask her or her husband for their help in securing the claim if you're that eager?"

He shook his head at her lack of understanding. "Never mind my dear. Do not seek to trouble yourself with the intimacies of business. Please continue your association with Mrs Swearengen. You never know what may come of it."

Phoebe lifted her mirror and studied her reflection. "A friendship which I hope would endure beyond this camp would please me immensely. And she would be so suited to San Francisco." She turned back to her husband. "But we have been parted such a long time, my darling, and I think it only right that you now demonstrate how keenly you have missed me."

XXXX

"How did you find her?" Al asked.

"Very personable," Catherine replied, tossing her shawl onto the bed. "We had a very pleasant afternoon, despite her wishing to come in here and meet you."

"I trust you dissuaded her."

"I pointed out to her that it wouldn't be wise for a woman such as herself to be frequenting a saloon, but despite that she seemed unperturbed. I wouldn't be surprised if she weren't to turn up unannounced one day and demand liquor. She's that sort."

"Long as she ain't looking for snatch," Al commented. "That kind of thing don't go down too well with some folks."

"She's too much in love with her husband to be looking for anything like that." Catherine stood at the balcony doors watching as the sun slowly sank into the horizon. She could see a light burning in Phoebe's window and wondered what would be transpiring in her room that night. No doubt more than would transpire in her own. "If I've done something to anger you...I would prefer you tell me."

The comment took Al aback, but he quickly recovered himself. "You ain't done nothing."

"Then I fail to understand the cause of your sudden disinterest," she said, turning to face him. "I could understand your reluctance as I recovered but I am now returned to full health and yet you still seem to find it impossible..."

"Must we talk about this now?" he interrupted, uncomfortable at the direction of the conversation.

"Yes!" she insisted. "I have lived for too many weeks without knowing why you no longer desire me."

"You want me to hold you down on the bed and fuck you, is that it? You wish me to force myself on you as any other husband claiming his conjugal rights?"

She shook her head, "I wish you to love me as I know you are able." He said nothing as she walked slowly over to stand in front of him and began unhooking the buttons on her dress. Her eyes never left his as, one by one, each was slipped from its hold, revealing only a sheer undergarment beneath that did little to hide her assets. Reaching out, she felt his hardness protruding and gently slid down the fly of his pants, her fingers seeking the button on his flap and releasing it, so that he spilled into her hand. She moved closer to him, slowly running her hand down his shaft.

"Stop it Cathy," he said, though his voice shook a little on the words. But she persisted, her body close to him, her breath dancing over his lips. "You ain't got no idea what you're doing..." Resistance, however, was futile. His arousal could be restrained no longer and he grabbed her, pulling her to him, his mouth crushing against hers, his tongue pushing against her own. One hand grabbed her breast, none too gently, and rubbed her nipple to a hard peak, the other snaked between her legs to push up inside her and find the willing wetness. She groaned in appreciation as he pushed her back against the desk, hoisted her up atop it, forced her legs apart and thrust inside her.

"Yes..." she moaned, the word full of victory as she bucked against him. "Yes...Jesus...Al..." Her appreciation continued, growing in volume and effusion with each thrust inside her. It felt so natural to him, weeks of pent up frustration finally spilling over into the only person he could ever imagine loving again. Her body so warm against his own, so willing...but the cold reality of his situation was never far away and, as he felt himself approach his peak, found it invading his head like a viper.

"No..." he groaned, trying to pull back from her. She clung to him tightly, holding him against her, crying his name in ever desperate tones. "No...no!" he finally managed to rip himself from her clutches and staggered back, holding his still hard prick in his hand. "Jesus fucking Christ!" He turned his back on her and placed one hand on the wall to steady himself. "I ain't doing this!" He turned back to face her, comically splayed as she was on the desk, a look of hurt and bewilderment on her face. "I ain't having you with child again!"

Catherine pulled herself upright, grabbed her dress from the floor and held it against her, hiding what, moments ago, he had revelled in. "I don't understand..."

"I ain't risking you bearing my child!"

"Is that what all this is about? Al, my difficulty didn't arise from my pregnancy. The cholera was entirely separate and unrelated..."

"One led to the other, Cathy," he said, his prick now soft enough to be able to slip back inside his duds. "If being with child hadn't made you feel unwell, you wouldn't have needed to drink that infected water. Sense dictates it was my doing and, learning from that, I ain't putting you in the position again."

"But..."

"That's the last word I'm going to say on the subject."

"Well it ain't the last word_ I'm_ going to say!" She protested. "How can we possibly go on like this? Are we to have a marriage without intimacy? Will you return to fucking one of the girls whenever the need takes you, for I cannot see you denying yourself a release?"

"Things will be put in place," he said, pulling his clothes back on. "As for tonight, I'll sleep in your old room."

"This is fucking ridiculous!"

"Take it as you will," he replied. "But perhaps think on it as being the one selfless thing I've done for you." He left the room, slamming the door behind him and leaned against it for a brief moment. It had felt so good, so natural being with her again. But his words to her had been correct. It could never be allowed to go further and it never would. Never again.

XXXX

Catherine tossed and turned all night, feeling small in the bed that it seemed she would no longer share with her husband. His words rolled around and around in her head and though, in some way, she could see his logic, it seemed twisted to her. He had convinced himself that by denying his desire for her, he was somehow protecting her. Somehow prolonging her life in a way he couldn't if they were together. But he failed to see that, in denying her, he was in effect ending her life. She knew, in her heart, that there was no purpose for her without him. Hearing Phoebe talk of her love for Hearst, the look in her eyes when she mentioned his name, had only compounded that.

She had to make him see, had to make him realise that his concerns were without foundation. There must be a way to ensure the survival of their marriage even at the expense of future pregnancies.

"Doc..." she whispered to herself, "Doc could help me."

The thought quietened her and she finally fell into a deep sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks for the reviews - keep them coming!**

**July 30****th**** 1876**

Al barely looked at her when she came down for breakfast the following morning and, once sure that she was clear of the room, proceeded to climb the stairs back to the office with his own food and close the door. Catherine hovered at the bar, torn between wanting to storm after him and demand further explanation over his ludicrous decision and wishing to save herself further humiliation. Reasoning that it was better to leave matters for the moment, she concentrated on sitting and eating her own breakfast, though every mouthful of the food tasted like sawdust.

"You all right?"

She looked up to see Silas watching her from across the table. "Fine, why?"

He shrugged, glancing up towards the closed office door. "Just asking."

"Thank you, but I'm fine," she replied. The last thing she wanted was for everyone in the Gem to know about the situation.

"You know, if you ever want to talk..."

"About what?"

"About...things that have happened...I'm here if you need me."

Catherine paused, knowing he referred to the loss of her child. Dolly, before she turned, had told her in hushed tones about the declaration Silas had made about the loss of his wife and child. Though she felt for the other man, she found herself wishing that it were Al who wished to discuss such matters instead.

"Thank you," she said softly and he nodded in understanding.

Upon finishing breakfast, she saw to it that the girls were ready to face that day's customers before slinging her shawl over her shoulders and making her way to Doc's. As she left the Gem, she glanced up at the windows, but saw no sign of her husband.

"Morning Catherine," Joanie greeted her as she came out of the hotel, accompanied by Charlie Utter.

"Morning Joanie, Mr Utter," she returned the greeting.

"Mrs Swearengen," Charlie said, touching his hat.

As she walked on, she glanced back over her shoulder and smiled as she saw them walk on together, deep in conversation. Despite everything, it made her feel warm inside to know that there may be a romance between them. Joanie deserved it after everything she had been through.

To her surprise, there was a queue outside Doc's and she had to stand for a good fifteen minutes before he finally was able to let her inside.

"My apologies," he said, gesturing for her to sit down. "I've found myself rather in demand this morning."

"Any particular reason?" she enquired.

"If I knew that, I'd make sure it happened all the time," he replied, sitting down opposite her. "Now, what can I do for you?"

"I was hoping..." she trailed off, embarrassed at her predicament and unsure where to even begin to start explaining. Doc watched her patiently until she finally found the strength to say her piece. "Al says...Al says that we can never be intimate again because of what happened to me. He says he can't risk my becoming pregnant again and, because of that, he refuses..." she trailed off.

"I see," Doc said softly.

She lowered her eyes. "As a doctor, you surely would be able to advise me as to...well...methods of controlling pregnancy..."

"There are methods, yes."

"And I don't mean that fucking disgusting tea that the girls brew if they feel they might be in trouble. I mean, real...methods..."

"I understand your meaning," he said. "But it seems to me from what you've said that this goes deeper than simply finding a reliable method to prevent pregnancy. Have you spoken with Al properly about this?"

"He refuses!" she exclaimed, throwing up her hands. "He ignored me for days without proper reason until last night when we...well...in any event, he couldn't continue and he made very clear to me the reason and the fact that such an act could never happen again. That's why, I had hoped..."

"Catherine, I could give you advice about every method possible to assist in the prevention of pregnancy but if Al refuses to consider even engaging in the act that might lead to it ..."

"That is what I took his meaning to be."

"Then my assistance is premature."

She sighed heavily and closed her eyes, wiling away the hot tears that pricked at her. "Then I find myself at a loss as to how to proceed."

He reached out and took her hand in his. "Talk to Al again. Make him listen to you."

Catherine laughed despite herself. "_Make _him listen to me? I think we may be discussing a completely different person. Al Swearengen listens to no-one."

"Except you," he squeezed her hand. "I believe you will find your counsel is his most valued."

XXXX

"Catherine, how lovely! And right on time too! I do confess, lack of punctuality is a pet hate of mine!" Phoebe opened her chamber door wide to allow her new friend entry. "I am very much looking forward to our walk this afternoon."

"I'm glad," Catherine replied trying to muster up as much enthusiasm as she possibly could, yet feeling that Phoebe's vivaciousness may only serve to irritate her. Having left Doc's, she had returned to the Gem and aimlessly assisted Jewel in the kitchen until it was time to venture to the hotel. She waited while the other woman fixed her hair in front of the vanity mirror. "I take it Mr Hearst is being kept busy?"

"Lord, yes! I hardly see him. He's away so early in the mornings. It _was _nice spending some time with him last night though," she smiled saucily, "if you take my meaning."

"I do."

"So! Shall we visit the schoolhouse this afternoon? I am _most_ keen to meet with the Sheriff's wife."

"I'm sure she'd be very pleased to make your acquaintance," Catherine replied.

"Are you sure you're feeling all right?" Phoebe enquired, peering at the other woman. "You still look terribly pale."

"I'm fine," she replied hurriedly, not wishing to be drawn on the source of her malaise. "A walk in the fresh air will no doubt do me the world of good." With that, they made their way back down the stairs and out into the thoroughfare. Phoebe chatted incessantly as they made in the direction of the schoolhouse. Catherine had little idea of what she was talking about, and was only glad that no further suggestion was made of them entering the Gem.

As they neared the schoolhouse, she saw Martha sweeping the steps, pausing when she saw the two women approach.

"Mrs Bullock."

"Mrs Swearenegen," Martha looked at Phoebe. "This must be..."

"Phoebe Hearst," Phoebe said, holding out her hand. "A pleasure to meet you Mrs Bullock."

"Likewise," Martha replied. "My husband told me last night that he had made your acquaintance in the hardware store."

"A fine man, your husband," Phoebe beamed. "A credit to the camp as Sheriff, I have no doubt."

"Thank you. I'm sure he'll appreciate your endorsement."

"What a lovely schoolhouse!" Phoebe peered inside. "May I look?"

"Of course," Martha stepped back and allowed the two women entry. School having finished for the afternoon, it was devoid of children, but there was artwork pinned to the walls and books, crayons and tablets neatly packed on top of a desk in the corner.

Catherine, having never been in before herself, also took the opportunity to admire it. She couldn't help but feel that, if she were to have another child, it would be suitably educated in the camp. She glanced sideways at Martha, who was watching Phoebe with interest, and wondered what it would be like to have her as a confidante.

"This is a credit to you, Mrs Bullock!" Phoebe declared. "A most pleasing place for the camp's children to learn. Do you have many students?"

"Around twenty or so," Martha replied. "Not all attend on a regular basis due to commitments at home."

"Of course, yes, I can imagine. George commented only yesterday that you have one very distinctive student. A little girl with such pure blonde hair?"

"Yes, Mrs Ellsworth's daughter, Sophia."

"Not her own daughter, I'm given to understand however, merely her ward?"

"I...well...yes," Martha replied, her smile slipping slightly. "But very much treated as Mrs Ellsworth's daughter."

"Of course, of course," Phoebe flapped her hands. "Silly of me to suggest anything to the contrary. So good of her to take the child in." She nodded satisfactorily. "It really is a lovely building. I was just thinking that we three should take tea sometime in the hotel."

"Oh, well I..."

"Catherine, don't you think that would be such a splendid idea?"

Catherine looked between the two women, "I'm not sure..."

"We are three respectable women who could derive some pleasure from each other's company. What is there to be unsure of?"

"Respectability is perhaps one issue," Catherine said. "Sheriff Bullock credits me with little and I doubt he would approve. But I'm sure that he would be more than happy for the two of you..."

"Absolute nonsense!" Phoebe declared. "A lack of respectability indeed! Why, because you live in a saloon? Because you tend to the needs of the working girls? Mrs Bullock, I'm sure you would agree that there could be little said about such fraternising. Besides, as much affection as we have for our husbands, I refuse to accept that permission must be granted to us for all things."

Catherine looked over at Martha, who was clearly trying to smother her amusement. "If Mrs Bullock has no objections...?"

"None," Martha replied, "I think it would be lovely."

"Oh how wonderful!" Phoebe clapped her hands. "Indeed, perhaps we might even invite Mrs Ellsworth to join us!" She looked at Catherine. "I was hoping one of our next stops might be her bank."

"Oh..." Martha said.

"Why don't we keep it as we three for now," Catherine interjected, knowing that the history between Bullock and Mrs Ellsworth would not make for a happy afternoon's activity.

"If you insist," Phoebe pouted. "We shall have to organise something soon. It was so lovely to meet you, Mrs Bullock."

"And you Mrs Hearst, Mrs Swearengen."

Phoebe and Catherine left the schoolhouse and began making their way leisurely along the thoroughfare back towards the hotel where Phoebe insisted that Catherine stay for some tea. As they neared the door, a man bumped roughly against Catherine, causing her to stumble backwards and he to drop the wood he was holding.

"Good gracious!" Phoebe exclaimed, grabbing her arm to steady herself.

"Apologies Ma'am," the man said, bending down to retrieve his belongings. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, thank you," Catherine replied.

"You might want to watch where you're walking!" Phoebe exclaimed indignantly.

The man glanced at her briefly before turning his attention back to Catherine. "I hope you ain't hurt."

"I'm fine," she repeated. "Mr..."

"Earp," he said, briefly touching his hat, "Wyatt Earp." With that, he disappeared into the throng of the thoroughfare.

"Heavens," Phoebe said, "I think a strong brandy might be more appropriate than tea!"

XXXX

Al was standing on the balcony taking in the evening air, when he heard the office door open and shut and, turning, he found Catherine standing in the doorway behind him, her face pale and drawn. He hadn't seen her since first thing that morning yet knew she had spent the afternoon entertaining the Hearst woman. He was minded to query her on it, when she spoke first.

"I spoke with Doc today."

"On what subject?"

"Our...situation."

"You took it upon yourself to discuss our private business with him?" Al said, forgetting all thoughts of Hearst or his wife. What right did _Doc _have to opine one way or another on their personal life together?

"On the basis that you refuse to discuss it, yes I did," she replied sharply. "He gave me suggestions as to how we might continue to...to be intimate without needing to fear the risk of pregnancy. There are various methods that we could use..."

"I ain't interested in his _methods._"

"But..."

"I said no, Cathy. That is an end to it."

"No it isn't!" she exclaimed. "It isn't an end to it, it can't be! I don't believe for one moment that you truly mean what you're fucking suggesting! How is it possible to remain wed to a person with whom you have no physical passion?"

Taking a deep breath, he set out his chosen course. "Perhaps the answer lies in us no longer being fucking wed."

She stared at him. "You're not seriously suggesting..."

"I am. And the sooner we make it official the better for everyone." If he had thought giving voice to his decision would bring him comfort, he was left wanting. He did not feel better. If anything, he felt worse as her face took on an expression of abject horror.

"But..." she fought for words, clearly shaken by his declaration. He waited, almost holding his breath until a light dawned in her eyes. "So, you've gotten what you wanted all along! Marry me, take my share of the Gem and then cast me out like a common whore with nothing!"

"That ain't the way of it," he said hurriedly.

"Of course it fucking is!"

"If you'll let me finish, you'll discover that I intend to return your share of the Gem to you, or the financial equivalent of same if you prefer, on the occasion of our divorce." He saw the confusion in her eyes and, reaching into his pocket, pulled out the signed document. "Here," he held it out to her. She took it from him and he watched her gaze dance over the letters. "You'll see my intentions all along were honourable."

Catherine tossed the paper onto his desk. "You expect congratulations for having the foresight for this moment?" She shook her head helplessly. "I don't understand why you're doing this, I really don't. If you have concerns, fears..."

"I don't."

"That wasn't your position last night when you declared you couldn't see me with child!" She pointed out. "Surely we are able to speak of and resolve such matters without recourse to divorce?"

"Perhaps if this were a regular marriage, one brought about through genuine love and affection, such resolution would be possible but as it is..." The blow clearly hit her hard and he felt himself wince at the way her eyes filled with tears. "Let's not tell ourselves untruths," he continued. "It wasn't much of a match, was it?"

"You told me..." she paused. "You told me of your feelings. You...declared love..."

"Fucking has a tendency to bring out strange emotions in the brain," he said, opening his drawer and pulling out a fresh whisky bottle. "I'll admit that fucking you was an improvement on fucking others before you..."

"Stop!" she said, holding up her hand. "I know what you're doing. I know you're only saying these things to encourage me to accept the situation but I won't!"

Al paused, tempted to go further. Tempted to help push her over the cliff's precipice by revealing the secret of his involvement in her attack. It would surely be the death knell for any protestations she might make about steering him away from his chosen course. But weighed heavily against that was the knowledge that it could perhaps destroy her. For all his intentions as to the outcome of the matter, he wanted to refrain from hurting her too deeply.

"You love me," she said, coming to stand in front of him. "I know that you love me and that this isn't what you want..."

"You profess to having a lot of knowledge of my feelings," he interrupted, moving away from her, lest he be again tempted to embrace her. "This _is _what I want and this _is _what is going to happen, Cathy. Seek whatever advice you wish, be it legal or otherwise, the offer stands. Your half share of the Gem or the financial equivalent."

"Fuck you, Al" Catherine exclaimed, the tears spilling down her cheeks. "Fuck you and _fuck _the Gem!"

He watched her run from the room, taking no pleasure in her departure.


	5. Chapter 5

**A quick update for you. Thanks for all the reviews - I really do appreciate it! As an aside, in the first chapter I put 18th July and then jumped to 29th July. I meant 28th July in the first chapter. Hope that makes sense!**

**July 31****st**** 1876**

"When I told George last night that we were going to take tea together he cautioned me against my being too forthright with you! I do hope that isn't how you both feel, is it?" Phoebe leaned across the table and fixed her companions with a worried look. "I would feel _terrible..._"

"Not at all," Martha reassured her, replacing her tea cup in its saucer. "This is a lovely way to end the afternoon, especially after looking after the children all day."

"I'm so glad. Catherine?" Phoebe turned her attention to the other woman. "Catherine!"

Catherine started at the mention of her name and lifted her gaze hurriedly from where she had been staring at the table top. "I'm sorry?"

"You were miles away," Phoebe said. "And you look terribly pale again. Is it simply a remnant of your illness or is there something else on your mind? You're among friends and I'm sure Mrs Bullock and I would do all we could to offer counsel, wouldn't we?"

"Of course," Martha agreed.

Catherine paused, torn between wanting to unburden herself and wishing to keep the events of the last twenty four hours to herself. After she had fled from Al's declaration, she had locked herself in her old bedroom and cried herself to sleep. The knowledge that he no longer wished to be married to her weighed heavily on her and though she couldn't understand his decision, his resoluteness made her feel as though there would be no changing of his mind. Upon awakening, she had vowed that she would not lower herself to beg him, that she would hold her head high, but the last thing she had wanted to do that afternoon was take tea with Phoebe and Martha and had in fact thought she had escaped the former's company altogether until Captain Turner had arrived at the Gem that morning with the invitation. Without reason to refuse, she had found herself making her way to the hotel at 4pm to meet the other women. She felt her emotions flit between distress and anger and constantly found herself shifting from wanting to cry at Al's feet to wishing to strike him square in the face. At that precise moment, emotion was winning the battle.

"My dear, your eyes are filling with tears!" Phoebe exclaimed. "Good gracious, whatever is the matter?"

"Nothing," she replied, looking down at her hands. "At least, nothing I feel I can share."

"Nonsense," Phoebe blustered, "there's nothing that can't be shared amongst friends."

"Well..."

"Good afternoon, ladies." Catherine was interrupted by Hearst's sudden arrival at the table. "I trust you're enjoying your afternoon?"

"We were," Phoebe said, her tone carrying a note of irritation at her husband's intrusion. "This is strictly a female only occasion, darling."

"I wouldn't dream of intruding," he replied. "Might I have a word, my dear?"

Phoebe rolled her eyes and sighed, "If you must." With an ill grace, she pushed her chair back from the table and followed her husband out into the hotel foyer.

Catherine and Martha sat in relative silence for a few moments, the former unsure whether she was glad of the interruption or not. To give voice to what had transpired was to almost make it more real than she believed it was.

"Perhaps I would not be quite so forthright in my enquiry as Mrs Hearst," Martha said suddenly in a low voice, "but if you should wish to speak of what is troubling you, I can offer a non-judgemental ear."

Catherine looked at her and saw true empathy in her expression. She had always felt for Martha knowing, as did most of the camp, of the Sheriff's indiscretions with Mrs Ellsworth, nee Garrett, nee Russell in her absence. And yet, the other woman had borne the plight with an enviable disposition, a grace and elegance that Catherine worried would elude her.

"Would you, or indeed Sheriff Bullock, know of any lawyers in the camp? One...who might be proficient in matters of divorce?" She felt the words rush out of her mouth and a sense of relief descend.

Martha's mouth dropped open in surprise, but she quickly recovered herself. "Personally, no, but I would be more than happy to ask Seth if he could recommend anyone. He speaks often of the trial of Jack McCall and I understand that there were many lawyers wishing to participate at that time. As Sheriff, I'm sure he must have some connections."

"Thank you."

"I'm...sorry. I had no idea that you and Mr Swearengen...I had always thought you to be very happy together."

"As did I," Catherine replied sadly. "But it would seem I was mistaken in that belief." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Phoebe making her way back to the table. "I would be grateful if you would keep this to yourself for now. I'm sure Phoebe would offer wise words but I don't believe I'm ready for her opinion on the matter."

"Of course," Martha replied, "you may count on my discretion."

"My apologies," Phoebe said, sitting herself back down at the table. "I find it incredible sometimes that a man as important in business as George can't make the smallest decision about furnishings." She fixed her gaze on Catherine. "I'm sorry you were interrupted, Catherine, please continue with what you were about to say."

"Oh...it was nothing," Catherine replied, lifting her tea cup and glancing sideways at Martha. "Nothing at all."

XXXX

At the same time that Catherine was taking tea, Al found himself out on the Gem balcony, gazing out over the camp. As his gaze wandered, so did his mind and he recalled how steadfastly Catherine had chosen to ignore him that morning as she went about her daily routine but he had overhead her distress when passing her door on his way to the bar and back again, and found himself somewhat surprised by it. When he had divorced Nettie, she could not have been more relieved and yet Catherine, who had in years gone past made no attempt to hide her feeling of ill-will towards him, broke her heart over a match that she must surely realise was always doomed to fail.

As he pondered, across the way, Hearst emerged out onto his roof, taking a deep lungful of evening air before thrusting his hands in the pockets of his pants and surveying the camp. Upon catching sight of Al, he nodded towards him. "Good evening, Mr Swearengen."

"Mr Hearst," Al replied.

"I must say that I am most pleased with how my wife appears to have taken to yours. Why Mrs Hearst has done nothing but sing Mrs Swearengen's praises since first they met."

"I'm pleased to hear it.

"Indeed, as we speak, they take tea beneath me with the Sheriff's wife," Hearst continued, "and a more amiable table I believe I have yet to see. I can't thank you enough for permitting Mrs Swearengen to take on board the task I assigned her."

"Permission ain't something I'm used to granting for Catherine," Al replied.

"I can tell that," Hearst nodded, "She certainly is one with a mind of her own."

"Indeed."

"I was hoping that we two might sit down and discuss business at a mutually convenient time. I see no reason why we cannot be as amiable as our spouses, can you?"

Al paused. Something in his gut told him not to trust the other man and yet, sitting down face to face and discussing business, was perhaps the only way he would glean Hearst's intentions. "I see no reason why that couldn't be accomplished."

"I'm delighted to hear it. I will send Captain Turner over tomorrow with a proposal and I very much look forward to it."

"As do I," Al said. At that moment, he was distracted by Catherine emerging from the hotel and crossing the thoroughfare back to the Gem. "I do hope you'll excuse me. Mrs Swearengen appears to be returning."

"I too should see to Mrs Hearst. Until tomorrow then."

"Tomorrow." Al made his way back into the office and on into the bar in time to see Catherine pour herself a large glass of whisky and down it in one. Then she poured another and made for the stairs. "Been taking tea with the Sheriff's wife, I hear," he greeted her on the balcony.

"I won't pretend to be surprised at your spying on me," she replied.

"Hearst himself informed me in the same breath as requesting I meet with him to discuss business."

"And what was your reply?"

"I agreed to it. It might lend me some advantage which your befriending his wife has so far failed to do."

"I hardly think I'm bound to tell you anything now," Catherine replied sourly. "If you have your way we will shortly owe no obligation to one another. Even if I were to overhear that he planned to set the Gem aflame, I would not be required to inform you."

"You speak as though you were in my employ as opposed to in my bed."

"One begets the other," she drained her glass. "I'm sure Dolly will be delighted to return to her former duties, unless of course your _inability_ extends to all women as opposed to only myself?"

"Anger has replaced your distress?"

"My feelings are none of your concern anymore," she replied, sweeping past him into her room and slamming the door. He watched the space where she had been, the closed door, and waited for the sounds of distress from within, but there was nothing.

XXXX

Later that evening, Catherine found herself in the bar, watching over the girls and the customers as duty imposed. She found herself wondering how long she would continue to undertake the role. The idea of remaining in the Gem after the divorce had taken place brought her no comfort and, in her own mind, she found herself leaning further and further towards taking her financial share and leaving. But where would she go? Would she remain in the camp, or would it be more beneficial for her to pack up what meagre belongings she had and seek a new life elsewhere? The thought frightened her. She had never been anywhere without the protection of her father, or indeed Al.

So lost in thought was she, that she didn't notice Bullock enter the saloon and make his way over to her. "Mrs Swearengen."

"Sheriff!" she exclaimed, jumping at his voice beside her. "My apologies."

"They're not necessary" he replied, and she could see pity in his eyes, no doubt placed there by Martha recounting her tale of woe. "Mrs Bullock mentioned to me that you were looking for some legal advice."

"Yes," Catherine replied, glancing around lest anyone be listening. "I didn't know who to ask and I thought, with your standing in the camp..."

"I can give you some names," he said, handing her a small piece of paper. "May I recommend the name that appears first on the list? He lives in Spearfish, but has cause to be in the camp. I took the liberty of speaking with him earlier and he indicated that he would be more than happy to discuss your situation with you tomorrow."

"Oh..." Catherine said, staring at the paper. "That's...so soon..."

"I understood that there might be some urgency to the matter."

"Yes, yes there is. I would like to know my position as soon as possible." She smiled. "Thank you for your attention to this."

"You're welcome," Bullock replied. "I suggested to him that you might like to meet with him outside the hardware store tomorrow at ten o'clock. You're welcome to use our premises for your discussions or indeed go elsewhere."

"Thank you. I appreciate your help." He touched his hat and then made his way back to the door. She looked down at the name written before her, Robert Finch, and couldn't help feel that seeing it made everything seem so much more real.

**August 1****st**** 1876**

She opened under him, willing and wanting, like a whore and yet...so much better, her body displayed for him like a feast. Breasts, small and firm with hardened nipples and a tuft of fire red hair at her pussy, teasing him with the treasures that lay beyond. She was wetter than he would have ever imagined possible and he slid inside her with practiced ease, causing her to groan and wrap her legs tightly around his waist. She clenched her muscles, creating a sweet pressure in his prick that only served to excite him more as he thrust slowly in and out. He ran his tongue deliberately around each burning peak and she arched her body towards him, filling his mouth with her flesh. He grew more desperate for release and his strokes increased, harder and faster, the sound of his own name echoing around his head like a symphony...

Al awoke suddenly, finding his prick pressed hard against his duds, a small patch of wetness the only evidence of the content of his dream. His heart was pounding in his chest and he could feel a slick of sweat upon his brow. Sitting up in bed, his eyes grew accustomed to the darkness and he remembered that he was alone, Catherine choosing to spend yet another night in her old room. He knew he couldn't blame her for that choice, though he had considered himself to be capable of restraint should she lie beside him.

"But perhaps not," he muttered to himself, recalling the previous evening, "if she were to offer herself quite so tantalisingly."

His bladder burned and he threw back the covers and made for the piss pot. As he stood, staring out into the dark night while making water, he thought back to how, when he had been recovering from the knife wound, Catherine had helped him to and from the piss pot, had allowed him to lean on her while it was in use and had made no judgement of his frailty. Many a woman would have refused and he would only have had the assistance of a whore because of her fear.

When his stream had concluded, he made his way back to bed and lay staring at the ceiling wondering, yet again, if his decision was the right one.

XXXX

Catherine was running late for her appointment that morning due, in no small measure, to her having overslept. Something had awakened her in the small hours of the night, causing her to start, heart pounding, instinct on alert. The stillness of her bedroom had indicated there was no immediate threat, though she had considered going to Al. For what purpose she knew not. Further humiliation was not something she relished. Instead, she had pulled the covers up to her chin and tried to encourage the return of sleep.

It was therefore fully ten after ten before she arrived at the hardware store, in time to see Bullock and an unknown man, presumably Robert Finch, standing outside.

"My apologies," she said, coming to a halt beside them. "I didn't realise the time."

"It's not a problem," Bullock replied, though she could see the rebuke in his eyes. "Catherine Swearengen, this is Robert Finch, the lawyer I mentioned. Mr Finch, Mrs Swearengen."

"How do you do?" the other man asked, taking off his hat. She estimated him to be in his early sixties, portly with greying hair and dark eyes.

"Very well, thank you," she said. "Is there somewhere that we can talk?"

"Please," Bullock said, "use our back room." He led them through the hardware store and into the back room where there was a large table and chairs awaiting them. "It's perfectly private and you'll not be disturbed."

"Thank you Sheriff," Robert said, placing his hat on the table.

When Bullock had gone, Catherine sat down in one of the vacant chairs. "Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, Mr Finch."

"A pleasure my dear, a pleasure," Robert said, pulling out a notepad and pencil and settling himself opposite her. "I understand from the Sheriff that you're looking for some advice regarding a divorce?"

"Yes. My husband and I only married some three months ago but...well he now seeks divorce."

"Oh what grounds, may I ask?"

She lowered her eyes. "I was very ill with cholera some weeks ago and consequently lost a child as a result. He no longer...I mean...he no longer wishes to be with me...intimately...and subsequently no longer wishes to be with me at all."

"I see," Robert scribbled on his notepad, his expression betraying nothing of his thoughts. "Then it would really fall under an irreconcilable difference between the pair of you."

"As opposed to...?"

"Adultery, cruelty, neglect...those sorts of things. And, you are agreeable to this course of action?"

Catherine frowned, "I didn't think my agreement was an issue."

"Then you don't agree?"

"It's not what I want, if that's what you mean."

"Hmmm..." he leaned back in the chair. "Unfortunately, my dear, a husband may divorce a wife for any reason he chooses without requiring her consent, even in a camp such as this, I merely wondered if this was something you were both in agreement with. A formality, if you will."

"It isn't, but from your words I assume there is little I could do to prevent it."

"Very little." Robert agreed. "You reside together at present?"

"In the Gem saloon, yes."

"And, how do you propose to support yourself after the divorce? I'm sure you're aware that a married woman cannot hold property of her own and a husband is under no obligation..."

"My husband was previously in partnership with my father," she interrupted. "Upon my father's death earlier this year, his share of the saloon passed to myself as his heir."

"Yes, but..."

"My husband had a document drawn up prior to our marriage stating that my half share of the Gem would not transfer to him on account of our marriage, but would remain my own property, to be retained by me on the occasion of divorce."

Robert's eyebrows shot up, "Most interesting...I would require a copy, if possible, simply to verify it's veracity."

"Of course. I understand he had it signed and witnessed, though I had no knowledge of the existence of this document until a few days ago. I entered the marriage content in the knowledge that he would become sole proprietor of the saloon and that I would be giving up my rights," Catherine sighed. "He has offered me the choice of remaining in partnership with him and enjoying the profits from that, or taking my half share of the business in gold."

"Your preference being?"

"I haven't decided yet."

"Well..." he sat forwards and met her gaze. "This is a most interesting case, I must say. I would suggest that the first thing to be done is to have the business independently valued. Only then will you have any idea how much money you would stand to receive should you elect to take it and only then could you truly make an informed decision as to how best to proceed."

"How do I go about getting it valued?"

"Mr Star is the Chief Financial Officer at the Bank of Deadwood and I think he would be ideally placed to give you such a valuation." Robert got to his feet. "We've discussed much this morning, Mrs Swearengen. Let me speak with Mr Star with a view to progressing matters. In the meantime, if you could procure a copy of the document signed by your husband, I would be most grateful. I must confess, this is the first case I've had of this nature where a husband has been willing to return property to his wife. From the little knowledge I have of Mr Swearengen, I find it most intriguing."

"And what of your fee?" Catherine enquired, feeling somewhat disinclined to discuss Al's intrigue.

"Don't let's concern ourselves with that for the moment."

"How long will all this take?" she asked, getting to her feet.

"Well, my dear, as I touched upon earlier, this camp is illegal. It's not annexed to the United States and, as such, it can take as little or as much time as you wish." He cocked his head to one side. "How quickly do you wish the matter disposed of?"

Catherine paused. Prior to the meeting, she would have said she wanted it prolonged for as long as possible, in the vain hope that Al would change his mind. Now, however, she felt the best course was to have it dealt with swiftly.

"As soon as fucking possible."


	6. Chapter 6

**Thank you for all the reviews so far! Al continues to be an idiot...**

Stepping out of the hardware store, Catherine took a deep lungful of morning air and then let it out slowly. Her mind whirled over the conversation that she had just had with Robert Finch and the wheels that would be set in motion on her behalf. As she looked up the thoroughfare towards the Gem, she thought about how things were so clearly going to change. She was curious as to what Sol might value the Gem as being worth. The prospect of holding any money of her own brought with it a tantalising sense of excitement mixed with feelings of hurt. Anything they had ever had had always been held by Travis and, latterly, by Al. It seemed almost comical that she might find herself in a situation similar to that of Mrs Ellsworth, mistress of her own fortune.

As her mind considered that prospect, her feet found their way to the Bank of Deadwood and, before she really had formulated any sort of plan in her mind, she found herself pushing open the door and stepping inside.

Alma was situated behind her desk dealing with another customer, while Trixie was standing behind the counter and offered a warm smile as she entered. Catherine did her best to return it and yet found that her stomach was churning. Eventually, the previous customer rose to his feet and took his leave and Alma gestured for her to step forward.

"Good morning Mrs Swearengen," she said, greeting her with a smile. "It's wonderful to see you looking so well again so soon after your recent difficulties."

"Thank you," Catherine replied, somewhat discomfited by her words. "I would like to open an account, if I may."

Alma nodded, "Of course, but I had always thought your interests were kept in the Gem."

"Not any longer," Catherine replied. "I may shortly be coming into a sum of money and, if that is to be the case, I would wish it to be placed somewhere safe."

"Well, there is no place safer than the Bank of Deadwood," Alma replied. "I take security very seriously..."

"You need not sell the fucking place to me," Catherine interrupted acerbically. "Being the only bank in camp, it ain't as if I have many other choices. Please, just tell me what I have to do to open the account and...and how it can be managed."

"It's very straightforward," Alma lifted a ledger. "I will write your information in here and pass it to Mr Star to note in his own ledger. When you make a deposit, it will be noted in both ledgers to avoid mistakes or miscalculations. If you wish to withdraw your money at any point, that too will be noted in both ledgers."

"How much do I need to deposit to open the account?"

"As much, or as little, as you wish. Did you have a figure in mind?"

"No," Catherine said, "not yet. It hasn't yet been decided. The proceeds of my divorce from Mr Swearengen, that is." She felt the air in the room grow dead and saw out of the corner of her eye that Trixie's mouth had dropped open in surprise.

Alma's face fell, "I'm so very sorry to hear that. I always believed that you and Mr Swearengen were very happy together."

"Well, appearances can be deceptive," Catherine got to her feet. "Thank you for your time, Mrs Ellsworth, and I'll return if and when I have the money to deposit. Good day." She had taken not ten steps out of the bank when she felt a hand grab her from behind and pull her around.

"Your fucking _what _from Mr Swearengen?" Trixie exclaimed.

"I'm sure you heard every word pretty fucking clearly," Catherine replied, shaking herself free from the other woman's hold.

"Your decision or his?"

"His."

"For what reason?"

"None that I care to discuss with you in the thoroughfare! I'm sure if you hasten to the Gem one of the girls will be more than happy to fill you in!"

And you ain't going to fight it?"

"On what grounds would I fight it? He's offered me continued partnership or my half in gold, so I'm considering taking the fucking gold."

"To do what with?" Trixie asked. "If you leave the Gem, where the fuck will you go?"

Catherine shook her head sadly, "I don't know, Trixie. I really don't know."

XXXX

"I don't like this one bit, Dan," Johnny declared, staring out of the open saloon door.

"Al said we wait, so we wait," Dan replied from his position behind the bar.

"But why does he have to wait for Hearst to send his man over here? Why couldn't Al have sent you or I over there?"

"Have you ever known Al to confide in either you or I the reasoning behind his decision-making?"

"No..."

"Well then." Dan wiped at an imaginary stain on the bar. "Whatever this sit-down's all about, we'll know soon enough. Surprised we ain't heard nothing from all the time Catherine's been spending with Hearst's wife."

"She ran out of here pretty quick this morning," Johnny observed. "But I didn't see her go into the hotel..."

"Who cares where she went?"

"I was just saying..." Johnny suddenly leapt to attention. "He's coming!"

"Who?" Dan leaned over the bar.

"Hearst's man!"

They both watched as Captain Turner crossed from the hotel to the Gem, holding an envelope in his hand. He came inside and stopped in front of Johnny, his expression holding no sign of friendly greeting.

"Morning," Dan said.

The Captain merely held out the letter for Johnny to take from him. "You want us to give this to Mr Swearengen?"

"Of course he fucking does," Dan said, coming around the bar and ripping it from Johnny's hand. "Tell Hearst we'll send word back to him."

"I'm to wait for his reply," Captain Turner replied.

"Well I'll just...I'll take it to him," Dan nodded. "You...you just wait there then."

Al was working at his desk when Dan burst in, waving the coveted letter aloft in his hand. "Said he wants to wait for a reply," he added, after handing it over.

Al sliced it open and read the words aloud. "Dear Mr Swearengen. Following our brief conversation yesterday evening, I'm writing simply to formalise our plans for a congenial meeting. I suggest we meet in the hotel dining room this evening with the option to move matters to a more private area should the necessity arise. I await your response from Captain Turner. Yours, George Hearst." He tossed the letter onto his desk.

"You want me to tell the Captain you ain't replying right now?" Dan asked. "Throw Hearst off his game?"

"No," Al replied. "Tell him seven o'clock."

Dan paused. "You sure, boss?"

"I have never been more sure of anything in my life," Al replied. "Take the message."

"Yes sir." Dan left the office and hurried back down the stairs into the bar, where it appeared the Captain had barely moved a muscle since he had left. "Mr Swearengen says seven o'clock. Can you remember that, cocksucker, or do you need me to write it down?"

The Captain didn't reply, but merely turned and walked out of the saloon.

Johnny shook his head. "I don't think you should have called him a cocksucker, Dan..."

XXXX

"Catherine!"

She turned at the sound of her name and saw Joanie hurrying across the thoroughfare towards her. Trixie's question had left her feeling bereft and she had wandered aimlessly for what seemed like hours but was, in reality, perhaps only minutes. "Joanie."

"Ain't seen much of you these last few days," the other woman said. "I guess that's on account of you befriending Hearst's wife."

"I didn't know you knew about that."

"Reckon most folks in camp know," Joanie said. "She ain't exactly a woman you can fail to notice."

"I suppose not."

"Is everything all right?" Joanie peered at her friend. "You look as if you're about to cry."

"No..." Catherine sighed, "no, it's not all right. Do you have time...?"

"Of course I do," Joanie linked arms with her. "Come with me to Shaughnessy's. We'll have some privacy there."

Moments later, Catherine found herself pouring out everything that had happened over the last few days and, before she knew it, she was sobbing uncontrollably in the other woman's arms. "I'm sorry..." she sniffed. "I don't..."

"It's all right," Joanie comforted her, gently. "Reckon I can understand your heartbreak."

"I just...I never would have thought..."

"That you could love him as you do?" Catherine nodded. "Wouldn't be much of a marriage if you didn't."

"I know, but...when we wed...I suppose...maybe I thought it was just the natural order. Someone to talk over where Daddy had left off. The fact that it was Al..." she shook her head. "I don't know what I expected. I don't know if I thought it meant a life together or was only a temporary situation. But now...the thought of it changing..."

"Isn't there anything you can do to change his mind?"

"He seems resolute."

"Can't you fight it?"

"I have no standing to fight it! A husband can do what he wishes!" She dashed her eyes fiercely. "Being in that saloon, day and night..."

"Then don't stay there," Joanie said. "Move out. Move on."

Catherine stared at her. "But I haven't decided what I'm going to do yet. Whether I'm going to stay in partnership or take my share."

"What does it matter either way? Neither option suggests you having to live at the Gem. Come and stay here. Shaunghnessy's got plenty of rooms for a decent price. And if you can put up with him being an awkward cunt, then all the better."

"I don't know..."

"Think about it. Give yourself a little distance from Al and it might make your decision all the easier."

XXXX

"I'm to meet with Mr Swearengen this evening."

Phoebe looked up from her book and surveyed her husband across the room. "Amicably, I do hope."

"What other way is there?"

"And what do you intend to discuss?"

"My intentions in the camp will no doubt be the main topic of conversation. I also hope to glean some information from him regarding Mrs Ellsworth and her claim."

"Really, how I do tire of the subject."

Hearst moved towards her. "Taking tea with Mrs Swearengen and the Sheriff's wife is all very well, Phoebe..."

"Would you prefer I simply knock on the woman's door and introduce myself?" Phoebe interrupted, tossing the book to one side. "For I get the distinct impression that you are irritated with me on the topic."

"It might do no harm seeing as Mrs Swearengen has not yet seen fit to introduce you herself."

"Fine. I shall make it my business to pay a call to the bank tomorrow," Phoebe sighed. "But really, George, I came here to spend some time with you, not run around as one of your many minions."

"And I am glad of your presence," Hearst said. "Let's hope it remains that way."

XXXX

Catherine knocked on the office door and waited to be granted entry. On Al's welcome, she pushed the door open and stepped inside, meeting his surprised expression with a passive one of her own.

"You see fit to knock?" he asked from his vantage behind his desk.

"Being as I don't sleep in here no more, it seemed appropriate," she replied.

"Well then, permit me to treat you as a visitor and ask you to sit," he gestured to the vacant chairs.

"No thank you. I'm only here seeking a copy of the document you showed me earlier. The one purporting to provide me with my share of the Gem?"

"Purporting? You doubt its veracity?"

"I would have learned nothing if not to question such a document rather than accept it at face value. In any event, my lawyer has requested sight of it."

Al leaned back in the chair and took off his glasses. "Your lawyer?"

"Yes. You encouraged me to seek legal advice and that's what I did. And he'll be arranging for Mr Star to independently value the Gem, so I would hope that I could rely on your assistance with that matter."

He stared at her, the righteous indignation pouring out of her. She clasped her purse tightly in both hands, her face drawn so as to reflect little, if any emotion, her stance rigid as though uncomfortable in his presence. It brought him no pleasure to see her so altered from the passionate, emotive woman she had been before he had made his request for divorce, the woman who most likely would no longer have worn her clothes had she visited him at this hour in the day.

"My assistance need not be sought by you, but is freely and willingly given," he replied softly. "Let the Jew do what he wishes in order to ensure fairness."

"Thank you," she replied, turning back to the door.

"I'm to meet with Hearst this evening at the hotel," he said, causing her to pause and turn back. "Sent his man over here with a note not two hours ago and I gave my reply." He saw a flicker in her eyes, something akin to concern. "We are, no doubt, to discuss his purpose in the camp."

"You intend attending alone?" He nodded. "Isn't that dangerous?"

"You don't believe me capable of self-preservation?"

"Of course I do, but..." she paused. "I'm sorry I have no information to arm you with. Phoebe talks little of Hearst's business interests and much about things of little or no consequence."

"If you're interested in the outcome, I'm more than happy to regale you later this evening when I return."

Catherine looked down. "I don't think I'll be here."

"You have plans of your own?"

"I mean, I don't think I'll be living here. I've been thinking on it, and I believe it would be for the best if I were to move elsewhere until this matter is...settled. Joanie told me today that there are rooms available at Shaughnessy's for a reasonable rate..."

"There ain't no reason for you to leave," Al interrupted her.

"Yes there is," she said softly, her eyes filling with tears. "There's every reason." She coughed, to cover the embarrassment of her emotions. "Perhaps you could have one of the boys let me know when I can have a copy of the document."

"Here," he reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. "Take the original. I know what it says." He held it out to her and she took it, her fingers brushing against his in the process.

"Thank you."

"Cathy..."

The moment was suddenly broken by the door opening and Silas appearing. "Sorry," he said, making to leave again when he saw Catherine standing, "I didn't realise..."

"No need for apology, Silas," she said, "I was just leaving. Goodbye Al." With that, she moved past the newcomer out of the office, pulling the door closed behind her.

"I didn't mean to get in the way," Silas said to Al. "If I interrupted anything important..."

"You didn't," Al replied hurriedly. "Do me one favour though?"

"Sure."

"Get yourself round to Shaughnessy's before tonight and make sure the cost of Catherine's lodgings has been met for at least the next month."

"Her lodgings?" Silas frowned. "Is she leaving?"

"Yes, Adams, she's leaving."

"But..."

"Do I need to explain myself to you or will you simply do as I fucking ask?!"

Silas nodded. "I'll do as you fucking ask, even if I think you're being fucking stupid."

"What the fuck does that mean?" Al demanded.

"What the fuck do you think it means? Letting her walk out of here is the dumbest thing you've done since you were going to murder that Chink." He opened the door. "But my opinion didn't count for shit then so I doubt it counts for shit now."

When he had gone, Al opened his drawer and pulled out a fresh bottle of whisky, downing two glasses straight. Nothing irked him more than when someone else could point out he was making a mistake.


End file.
